


Wax and Wane

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Sad Story, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Grief, Mostly Canon Compliant, She/her pronouns for reader, Stark Tower Still Exists, Terminal Illnesses, Writing challenge fic, infinity war and endgame NEVER HAPPENED, not between character angst but still sad, other Marvel characters are mentioned but not central to story, warning for illness and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23409367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Bucky was sure he'd felt all the different types of bad a person could feel. He was wrong. You were pretty sure it was illegal to drive away with an Avenger in the back of your van, but what else could you do? A story about grief that is basically the 'flowers grow in the sidewalk cracks' metaphor fanfictionalised.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Wax and Wane

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Nik's 1k Writing Challenge (@serpienten on Tumblr). My dialogue prompt was, "I'll keep you warm. Hold me closer."

As the paint was brushed gently across their skin in broad strokes, you could read the joy and pleasure in their sweet little faces. It was a very minor and short term relief from their day-to-day pain, but it was the very least you could do. Face painting wasn't going to cure cancer or mend broken bones, but it made the residents of the hospital's children's ward happy. 

Most of the long-term patients knew you. You were the girl in the tutu and butterfly wings that would come and blow bubbles and make them smile. But on that day, you weren't the one they were excited for. 

The children were in a frenzy as The Avengers entered the room, dressed in their best outfits (minus any dangerous weaponry, you assumed). You stood to the side of the room with the doctors, nurses, and parents, and listened along with an enraptured audience as Captain America and Iron Man introduced the team. The kids couldn't sit for long, so very quickly the nibbles and treats were brought out and the room calmed into a soft party atmosphere. 

As soon as you'd set up your station, there was a line of children wanting to have webs and stars painted. You worked quickly, getting through the line fast. Staying put, you only had a chance to briefly survey the room before Liam, one of your most special friends, trotted up to you, pulling along someone new. 

"Hey, Liam," you greeted. He let go of his new friend's hand to hug you. 

"Look, Y/N!" he said, pointing up. "It's Bucky!" 

You looked up at Bucky Barnes, who would have towered over you even if you had been standing. The child's size plastic chair you were on really added a comical size difference though. 

"Hi, Bucky," you said, coy smile. Bucky softly smiled back. "You're Liam's favourite," 

"Yeah, I told'ed him that!" Liam said, not a shred of self-consciousness in the child. "And now we can be matching," 

"Matching?" you asked. 

"Yeah, 'cause you do the painting and you can paint my arm like Bucky's," Liam explained, holding his prosthetic arm out in demonstration. 

Glancing up at Bucky to make sure he was privy to the plan, he simply gave a little shrug. 

"Sounds good to me. How about you sit in this chair here, Liam, and we get Bucky to sit right next to us on the floor. Is that okay?" you asked both of them. 

Liam jumped into the seat, sticking his arm out ready. 

Bucky had a bit of a harder time folding himself down, but he eventually managed to sit in front of you comfortably. 

"Okay if I borrow your arm for a bit?" you asked Bucky. 

He nodded and held it out to you. When you took it, laying it across one of your legs so you could copy the seams and markings, Bucky held his breath. Most people hesitated. He figured some of them were afraid, and some didn't want to appear rude. Not you though. To you, his arm was just that - an arm. You'd kinda grown used to celebrities ( _is that what superheroes are classified as?_ you wondered to yourself) by then. Make a Wish and fundraising events and all that jazz… Turns out most famous people are pretty normal, boring even. 

Bucky watched you pull a bunch of markers out of your kit and begin replicating the aesthetic of his vibranium arm onto Liam's plastic prosthetic. He let you gently move him as needed, and found himself in awe of how good your Sharpie skills were. 

"You're really good," he said, speaking up for the first time. 

Liam held most of the space in the conversation, which was fine by both of you. He told Bucky about his illness, and how even though he'd lost his arm, he was the "luckiest kid in New York" because he was alive and because he got to meet The Avengers. There were shades of adult in his words, like he'd been told of his own luck before. 

While Liam spoke, you stole glances at Bucky. Mostly, his gaze was on Liam, sometimes darting over to you and away just as fast; he was avoiding eye contact. However, he quickly would turn to focus on particularly loud sounds or doors opening. If you'd had a chance to watch any of the other heroes in the room, you'd note they all did the same. 

"Doin' okay, Liam?" you checked in when the boy had gone quiet. 

Liam nodded frantically, not wanting to disappoint. "Yeah!" he affirmed. 

"Maybe just need a little nap after this, huh buddy?" you asked. 

"Maybe," he replied, relieved that there was a nap in his future. 

"Think I might need one too," Bucky chimed in. Liam giggled like it was a joke. 

"All done!" you announced. 

When the very elated Liam was done tippy tapping and hugging, he ran off to show his parents how absolutely cool he was. 

You and Bucky stood, both stretching out your limbs. 

"Think you've made a friend for life there," you told him; he softly smiled in reply. "Can I just say something that might be way out of place? I just… I don't know… I feel like you need to hear it." 

Bucky frowned, studied your face for a second. "Sure," 

"Okay… So… You _do_ know that you deserve to be here, right?" 

Mostly his expression was blank, then his head tilted to the side just a little. You'd been reading him the whole time, he realised. He felt exposed. But there was nowhere to run to. 

"Maybe…" he finally settled on saying. 

"Maybe?" you scoffed. "I mean, kids are lining up to meet you… And you're not questioning if, like, Wanda Maximoff or Natasha Romanoff should be here, you know what I mean?" 

Bucky looked over to where Scarlet Witch and Black Widow were forming a girl gang. "They're different. It's different," he argued, but his words were laced with too much sadness for you to give in. 

"Yeah… If you wanna get technical, weren't you the only one under mind control or whatever?" you posed. 

Bucky looked at you, tried to figure out why you were being so… persistently kind. Your logic made sense, and something in him considered believing it. 

"I'm just saying," you continued, "You deserve to be here. And if you don't wanna accept that, then it can be like… Liam deserves for you to be here." 

That, Bucky could get behind. He nodded. "Thank you," he said, awkward but earnest. 

You shrugged it off, then took a slow step towards him. "Hug?" 

He blinked stupidly, then nodded, opening his arms and letting you step into them. While you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, Bucky hesitated for a moment, then slid his arms around you. People around the room, even the ones that didn't know Bucky, watched how his hands lingered in the air before settling on your back. They saw how he melted into the hug, let his head rest on your shoulder and closed his eyes. 

When you stepped away from each other, he'd inherited some of your fairy glitter. 

"I'll see you next time, I guess," you offered, letting your sentence trail off enough that Bucky could catch it if he wanted. There was room for him to say anything. But, he just nodded. 

Bucky watched you walk away. 

Sam appeared at his side. "So, are you gonna-" Sam said, the amusement clear in his tone. 

"Don't," Bucky interrupted. 

"She's clearly-"

"I said don't," Bucky snapped, walking out of the room. 

Sam went to follow, worried he'd genuinely upset his friend, but he caught Steve's eye. A subtle shake of the head told him to stand down. 

…

Although you buried it deep inside, there was some small part of you that thought maybe you'd hear from Bucky. You weren't exactly sure _why_ you thought that was going to happen. It was easy to let that idea fall in the face of logic though; he was an Avenger… very busy… very private… etc. etc. Nonetheless, that small part stayed alight, and it fed your dreams all the way through to the next time you would cross paths with Bucky again. 

It was a different hospital, but the same type of event. Sparkle and shine and cheer the kids up. Although there were less Avengers than the first, the children were entirely chuffed with meeting their heroes. And, this event had something the previous did not. Thor. His laugh bellowed all through the ward's corridors, providing a sharp contrast to the otherwise sterile mundane life of the hospital. 

Thor promised the children that it wasn't that they weren't worthy of wielding Mjolner, it was that they just weren't ready _yet_. "You're far too little! When you're big and strong, like me!" He filled the children with more hope than they'd had in a long time. 

Your attention constantly being drawn to the larger-than-life Asgardian was a welcomed distraction… You were trying to give Bucky space, deciding that if he wanted to talk to you, he could. You wouldn't push it. Two superheroes that apparently did want to talk to you, though, were Falcon and Captain America. 

Like you were their mission, there was hardly a second where one of them wasn't by your side. Sam was entirely unhelpful, giving creative input to all the face painting. He made the kids laugh though, often at jokes that went over their innocent heads. It was his sassy tone they really liked. Steve was a little calmer, answering weird and wonderful questions only children could think up. 

They were both charming, personable, and genuinely fun to be around, but what were they doing? Were they trying to coax Bucky in? Provide a buffer? Or, no… Maybe they were keeping _you_ from _him?_ Shaking the thought from your head, you simply blew bubbles and painted faces and covered the room in confetti. 

You would have liked to say you didn't notice when Bucky slipped from the room, not returning, but that small part of you most definitely did. It most definitely noticed and you most definitely felt the effect of him not speaking to you, not even offering a smile across the room. 

"Did I do something?" you finally asked Steve, not needing to explain the context. 

"No… It's not you…" he answered, looking over at the door Bucky had left through. "He's just… He's trying…" 

… 

The children's ward was quiet. It was like that on Tuesday mornings. No events. Rounds over. Just the everyday life of sick children and distraught parents. As you walked down the corridor, you glanced through open doorways on your way to the nurses' station. 

It was a hard place to be. 

Something caught your eye and you stopped yourself a second too late, passing the room before you could see what it was. A flash of something. Stepping back, you snuck a look around the corner. 

A sunbeam off vibranium. Bucky Barnes was folded next to a bed, his arms crossed on the edge of the mattress, his head resting on them. He was asleep. You took a step into the room, then looked to the occupant of the bed. Your heart dropped. Liam. 

Liam was asleep in bed, sweating and small. 

Cautiously, you crept further into the room. Neither of them stirred, so you took a chair on the opposite side of the bed to Bucky and reached over to pick up Liam's chart from the end of his bed. It didn't say a lot, just the need-to-know for nurse rotation. But you knew those medications enough to know it was bad. Really bad. The emotions caught were too big. You put the chart back; the plastic-hitting-plastic sound it made woke Bucky up. He shot up, chair almost knocked to the ground if it weren't for his reflexes. He looked across the bed at you then, recognition instant. A worried expression took over his face. 

"Y/N?" 

"He's sick again," you said, your voice sounding far away. 

Bucky tracked your gaze to Liam. He nodded. "Yeah… They, ah… It came back… His parents went home to get some sleep. I said I'd stay." When you didn't move, didn't say anything, Bucky grew nervous. He could hardly handle his own reaction, let alone yours too. "They, the hospital, got in touch when he came back in. Said that… I could help. Make him feel… brave, or… I don't know.. It's been a couple weeks, but…" 

He couldn't bring himself to say it and you didn't need to hear it. 

"I've… I've got to… go…" you said.

When you stood up, you wobbled on the spot and tried to take a step to the door. Bucky was next to you before you even clocked him moving. 

"Come on. Don't wanna wake him," Bucky whispered, helping you out of the room gently. 

In the corridor, away from the door, you felt the wet hot tears roll down your face. Stupid, you thought to yourself, you should be used to this. It's happened before. The obvious and cruel downside to volunteering in the pediatric ward of a hospital. 

Bucky stood in front of you, watching for only a couple seconds before pulling you into a hug. He squeezed you into his chest, your arms curled comfortably between him and you. 

"He's talked about you. He'd wanna see you... Come back this afternoon and see him." 

You nodded, keeping your eyes shut tightly. 

"Okay," you tried, your voice squeaky and small. 

"Okay," Bucky repeated, trying to channel the humanity pre-Hydra Bucky showed when Steve's mother passed away. He knew what to say and do then. "You're okay… Go… Go do what ya need to. We'll be here. I've got him," he said. 

When he let you go, you felt cold. You wiped your tears, nodded once and looked up at him. 

"Go," he prompted, and you nodded again, turning and walking away. 

…

"Yeah, I don't know what that is," 

"Finding Nemo?!" Liam repeated, like if he said it louder Bucky was more likely to recognise the title. 

You chuckled from the seat next to Bucky's. 

"You knew?" he asked. 

"Everyone knows _just keep swimming,_ Buck," you told him with a shrug. 

"Guess that's another one for the list then," he said, pulling his phone out and adding the film to his ever-growing list of 'to watch'. 

Hours could go by like that. You, Liam, and Bucky sitting around, reciting movie quotes to each other. Guessing titles. Laughing at all the gaps in Bucky's pop culture knowledge. Liam loved feeling _smarter_ than an adult, and he completely lost himself in hysterical laughter when Bucky burst out his chair in joy when he finally recognised a film. 

"Star Wars!" Bucky had screamed so loud the nurse came in to shush him. " _Luke, I am your father!_ " Bucky whispered at her, grinning ear to ear. Then there was the Harry Potter time. "I got tricked into watching them," Bucky had said, shaking his head. Apparently, during his stay in Wakanda, Shuri had convinced him that Scarlet Witch and those who attended Hogwarts were from the same breed. He should, she said, watch it so he understands Wanda Maximoff better. Shuri would remember Bucky's face forever when he came back from visiting Team Cap. 

"My turn," Liam said. He thought for a second. " _I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse,_ " he said, his voice forced as deep as his tiny child body would allow. 

"Woah! Who let you watch that?!" you said, completely horrified. 

"My cousin David," Liam snitched immediately. "The horse head didn't even look real," 

"It didn't," Bucky confirmed, again, happy to identify The Godfather. "Alright, my turn… Ah… Okay. _Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine._ " 

You were as lost as Liam. 

"We give up," Liam reported after maybe five seconds of thinking.

"Casablanca?! Come on, guys. It's a classic!" Bucky argued. 

"God, you're showing your age," you teased. 

"Alright, you do better," 

"Easy," you cleared your throat for dramatic effect, " _To infinity and beyond!_ " 

"TOY STORY!" both Liam and Bucky yelled in unison. 

Liam then taught Bucky how to act out the "Buzz, will you get up here and give me a hand?" scene, complete with thrown prosthetic. 

…

"Theeeeeee… beeeeestest… leaf!" 

You and Bucky ran off in opposite directions. The hospital courtyard wasn't exactly bursting at the seams with nature, but it was enough to complete a little scavenger hunt. 

On Liam's orders, you returned with the most impressive leaf you could find. Bucky was right behind you. Handing them over, Liam carefully considered them from his bunded up seat in his wheelchair. 

"The winner is…" he said, pausing to cough. "Y/N!" 

"What?!" Bucky screeched. 

"Calm down. It's one-all," you reminded him. His feather was iridescent therefore better than your grey pigeon one. 

Bucky grinned at you, ever competitive and ever aiming to make Liam happy. "Alright," he said. "What's next, little man?"

…

"Not today, guys," the nurse replied when you ask if Liam could go for a walk. 

"Maybe we'll just read a couple chapters of The Lord of the Rings then, yeah?" you said, turning your suggestion to Bucky. 

Bucky nodded solemnly, suddenly and deeply affected by the reminder of Liam's weakening state, of mortality. 

Before entering Liam's room, you reached out and touched Bucky's arm. He stopped, looked at you with glossy eyes. You don't wanna see it, think it, but sadness didn't take away from Bucky's beauty. 

"You okay?" you asked. 

It was a loaded question and almost a rhetorical one. Bucky knew that. He didn't answer, just gave you a weak, lopsided smile. 

"You Sam or Frodo today?" he asked, shaking it off and moving again. 

…

For the whole time you'd known Bucky, his size had always been so obvious. Sitting beside children, beside Liam, he looked like a giant. Even next to the nurses that came and went he towered. Small hospital chairs. Small plastic cups. Small, sanitised rooms. 

So, when you turned the corner and saw Bucky sitting on the floor of the pediatric ward's hallway, looking so fucking _small_ , it stopped you in your tracks. His head was in his hands, and you knew what it meant. 

Slowly, step by heavy step, you walked the hallway and came to stand in the doorway of what was once Liam's room. The bed had been stripped of linen, but wasn't yet made ready for the next patient. The charts were gone, and the many tubes and plastic bags of chemicals too. A crushed, empty juice box was on the ground. 

Behind you, a nurse cleared her throat. 

"Y/N… I'm so sorry… We tried to call ya this morning but-"

"I left my phone at home… I was running late. Locked myself out my apartment. Left half my kit there too. Was late to this fairy party gig I had downtown… Bad day… and-" you were rambling, tears slowly running down your face. The nurse's hand gently cupping your shoulder stopped you. 

"S'alright, love… Nothing you could've done. But it's good you're here now. Reckon the Sergeant here might need a little TLC, yeah?" 

Nodding, you wiped your tears away on the sleeve of your hoodie. Suddenly, it felt ridiculous to be wearing a pink tutu. 

The nurse left you alone with Bucky. 

Bucky, who had not moved a single inch since you arrived. Bucky, who looked _small_. Bucky. 

"Let's go," you said, kneeling on the lino floor in front of him. "Think maybe a crying fairy and ah, statue Winter Soldier might confuse the kids… So… let's go." 

You thought maybe he wasn't going to reply, but he lifted his head, faced up. Bucky's eyes were rimmed red, but they were dry. He looked haunted. Shaking his head the smallest amount, he told you, "I… I can't… can't leave him…" 

"Okay… Okay, yeah. Um…" You looked up and down the hallway, trying to think while your head was drowning in grief. "Alright, um… My van is downstairs, in the lot. Let's just… I don't know, get that far." 

Bucky just starred at you. For one… two… three… "Yeah, okay," he agreed, standing. 

He didn't say a word as he followed you into the elevator and down to the carpark. People tried to not stare as you walked by. 

Arriving at your van, you opened the back and shoved some things out of the way, pulling the small mattress and pillows down from where they were propped up against the side. Turning to face Bucky, you read the confusion in his face. 

"Oh, ah… I don't live in it… I just…" There was no point in sugar-coating at that point. "I spend half my time around sick kids, you know? I need somewhere to be when it gets too much. Somewhere to… cry or sleep for an hour or whatever." 

Bucky looked from the van to you, gave you a small nod of acknowledgement. 

"We can just stay here… for as long as you need…" you offered, feeling embarrassment swell in you, but it quickly gave way to the apathy summoned by abject grief. 

If Bucky thought it was weird, he didn't say and you wouldn't have cared. He didn't though. He moved to sit where he could politely unlace his boots and nudge them under the van, then he scooted back onto the mattress, laid down. You crawled in after him, closing the doors behind you. 

He'd returned to his state of seeming too big for his surroundings, curled up in the back of your van. When you laid down next to him, he looked over at you. "Thank you," he said, voice croaky. 

As tears began to form in his eyes, you had the grace to pretend not to notice. "I think there's a blanket somewhere…" You sat up, looking over a box of costume fairy wings. Before you could locate the blanket, Bucky's arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you into him. 

Your back was to his chest, his face buried somewhere between your neck and the pillow. 

"I'll keep you warm," Bucky said, "Hold me closer." So, you did, putting your arms over his and threading your fingers between his. You didn't need to be kept warm, but he needed to hold onto something solid, someone living, breathing, real, and there. He needed you. 

…

Usually, sleeping in the back of the van was fine. When a super soldier was taking up 80% of the space, however… different story. You lasted forty minutes before snaking your way out, jumping over the front bench seat to sit behind the wheel. 

Bucky was definitely dead to the world. You could hear his heavy sleep-induced breathing. But, you couldn't just drive off with him in the back. That would pretty much be kidnapping an Avenger, right? You looked over the seat at Bucky. Waking him up seemed like an equally bad idea, both practically and morally speaking. He was so _peaceful_.

So, against your better judgement, you got out, grabbed his boots, and jumped back in, putting the key in the ignition and turning. 

At every car horn, New York pedestrian, and sharp turn, you glanced over to see if he'd been startled awake. Alas, sleeping beauty. After about fifteen minutes of sitting on your phone when you'd arrived home, parked in the back lot of your apartment complex, you ran out of feeds to refresh. Leaving the car key close to Bucky, where he'd see it, you left him there, figuring he'd probably be able to defend himself if anyone tried to steal the van. 

Hours later, close to midnight, you found yourself walking around your place, lost and teary. Pulling your nightgown on, you left your apartment and ventured outside. It was cold. That type of night time chill that only exists when you're at your most sad. Bone freezing. Visible breathing. 

There was no reply when you knocked on the back door of the van. Opening it, you were startled by Bucky's upright frame. He was sitting awake, back to the interior wall. 

"Buck?" 

No reply. 

You were a little scared. Unsure of what to do next. 

"I… I thought you could use the sleep. We're at my place now…" 

Still, nothing. 

"Do you want to come inside?" 

You chewed your lip for a second, waited, but he remained still. His super soldier body would be fine without food or water for a little while longer, you reasoned. And, he constantly radiated heat. 

"I'm apartment 5C. Come up when you're ready."

He didn't look over as you closed the door and retreated back into the safety of your home. There, you cried. Grieved. Tried to sleep. You told yourself you would make him come inside in the morning.

…

The sun rose red over New York City. You'd left your blinds open all night; waking up to natural like was meant to be good for you. Sitting up, you stretched the last remnants of a restless sleep off your heavy body and stepped out of bed. 

Maybe Bucky got himself in overnight. Crept in through an unlocked window. Used some sort of superhero technology to unlock the front door. He wasn't on the couch, though, or anywhere in the apartment. 

Teeth brushed and coffee brewing, you once again donned the nightgown and headed outside. 

_At least he's lying down,_ you thought, opening the van door. 

Bucky was back under the blanket. He was awake, the lines under his eyes deep set and sharing space with purple shadows. 

"Come on," you said. "You can't stay here. People are gonna come looking for you." 

Slowly, Bucky rolled his head to the side to look at you. Previously, he was staring at the van ceiling. "Steve knows," he told you, throwing his phone over. It landed on the blanket with a gentle thud.

You didn't pick it up. 

Bucky continued, "Messaged him last night. Phone's dead now," 

"Um… okay… Well, you should still come inside. There's more room," 

"I'm fine." 

It wasn't defiance as much as it was apathy. You wanted to say something. Anything. Be reassuring. But to be honest, you were surprised by his grief. 

Surely, the Winter Solider knew loss. Surely, he'd mourned and learnt to cope. 

No… No, this was different, you told yourself. The first child who passed away when you started working with the hospitals destroyed you. It took a month to even go back to the pediatric ward. Since then, you'd put things into perspective and learnt to process everything a bit better. Not as equipped as the doctors and nurses to do so, but able enough to survive the pain. 

The pain. Entirely unique. Something Bucky hadn't felt before. 

He really thought he'd felt all the types of bad there was to feel. He really thought he was no longer able to love. Besides Steve. And Sam. Wanda. Nat. Shuri… Okay, so he was kidding himself. Still. It fucking hurt. 

…

Around lunch, you took Bucky some food. Around dinner, you found it untouched but replaced it anyway. 

It was a Sunday night. In the morning you were expected over at the palliative care centre. Reading aloud to the patients helps. 

At 5:30 am, you woke from a fever dream. After shoving the sheets in the apartment building's basement washer, you called the centre. 

"Oh, no worries, Y/N," they told you. "Sally's bringin' her new puppy in today. That ought to bring some cheer to the place anyway." 

Guilt alleviated only slightly, you trekked to the van. 

At least he'd nibbled on dinner at some point. 

"Bucky?"

It was dark still, the sun only just waking up. You could make out Bucky's form in amongst your stuff. 

"You have to come inside today. I…" Guilt. Maybe a guilt trip would work. "I need my van for work…" It almost sounded like a question. "And, I'm sure you've got things you need to do…" No response. "Superhero stuff?" 

A muffled snort, but nothing else. 

… 

"Any chance you can just leave him there?" 

For a second, you thought Steve was joking. The silence at the end of the line said otherwise. 

"Ah, I mean, it's been almost two days," 

"I can get a car sent over to you if-"

"No," you interrupted. "That's not it. I'm just… Is this normal?"

Steve sighed. "There's not a normal for us, Y/N. There's just… coping… day by day." 

Holding in tears, you nodded to yourself. "Yeah, okay. I, ah, just wanted to check in. See if there's anything I should be doing,"

"I'd wager that you're already doing it… It means something that he's chosen to be near you. He could have run. He does sometimes. So, really, for him, this is… progress. He trusts you." 

You're weren't sure what you'd done to deserve that. 

"Thanks, Steve," 

"Anytime. Call anytime, Y/N." 

When you'd phone Stark Tower looking for help, you didn't really expect to be taken seriously. As it turned out, they were waiting for your call. 

… 

To your relief, Bucky was sitting up when you opened the van doors around 5 pm. He watched in interest as you awkwardly climbed in, handing him the tray you were carrying so you could settle in next to him. 

"Choc chip cookies and tea," you announced, not letting him give the tray back. "And I'm not leaving until you drink your cup and have at least two cookies." 

Bucky looked down at the presentation in his lap. "Guess I can't argue with that." 

You chewed your cookie slowly, making sure you'd not finish before him. 

"Did you make these?" 

"Yeah… I bake when I'm… Whatever," you replied. 

He nodded, then took another bite.

"You called Steve?" 

"How'd-"

Bucky shrugged. "Just figured you would. What'd he say?"

"Um… That you're okay here," you told him. 

Bucky didn't reply, instead picked up his mug of tea and held it between his palms. The china softly chinked against his left hand. 

You wanted to ask if he was indeed okay, but you weren't sure of what you'd be able to say if he lied. Or told the truth. Or anything in between. 

When the tray was empty of food, you climbed out of the van, and half-heartedly asked if he was coming inside. 

"I'm fine here," was his equally half-hearted reply. 

Together, maybe, you could make a whole person, something functioning and able to cope better than either of you were doing alone. 

Back inside your apartment, you ran out of plain flour and dishes to clean. All that was left to do was mourn. 

… 

It had been three nights and days since you'd arrived home from the hospital. Almost eighty hours of saying goodbye to Liam and telling yourself to be grateful that you knew him, and that you were able to help him laugh and find joy in his final few weeks. Hours of phone calls to friends, family, and your favourite nurses. Hours of standing at your apartment door, ready to march down to the van and pull Bucky out by his boots. Hours of it all. 

Like all things though, good or bad, it was waning and you were beginning to see how you could survive. 

You were sitting at the kitchen bench, practising your pipe cleaner and pom pom crown-making skills when there was a knock on the door. Glancing at your phone as you stood, you thought it was around dinner time. Probably next door, asking to borrow an egg. Or the old lady from down the hall that always made too much lasagne.

Without checking the peephole, you opened the door with your best polite smile ready. 

Bucky. 

The sight of him hit you, not like a tidal wave, but a waist-deep wave that knocks you back unexpectedly. You stumbled, had to refocus. Felt a little out of control.

Out of the mess of the back of the van, it was easier to see how utterly _fucked_ he looked. His long hair was ratty, visibly knotted in parts. Expression strung out, he looked like he was in amphetamine withdrawal. His skin was too shiny, and his clothes were crumpled and damp in places. 

Bucky went to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. He looked pained, then sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hoodie's arm. 

Without any warning, you burst into tears. 

Your hands went up to cup your mouth but it was too late. The sobs were heaving up from deep inside you, and Bucky was born with too much empathy to not be affected. Tears began to roll down his face. 

And that was it. Any pretence or attempt to be stoic was entirely dissolved. You crumbled into each other. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and you pressed your head hard into his chest, almost pushing against him like you were trying to push the feelings out of yourself. 

"I know," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. 

As his arms tightened around your body, you could feel how it was calming you. It was only a short term relief from the grief, but it was the very least Bucky could think to do. Holding you wasn't going to make anything better, but it made you both feel less alone. 

Showers and fuzzy bed socks. Hot cocoa and trashy television. Sleeping close. Waking up together.

From the deep unwanted darkness of grief, something was determined to find a way to grow.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @buckyreaderrecs. Please leave kudos and comments!


End file.
